


brush strokes and pigmentation

by simplyclockwork



Series: natural progression [13]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Ficlet, Fluff, Fluffy, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, POV John Watson, Series, Slow Burn, date fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 07:43:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21388573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyclockwork/pseuds/simplyclockwork
Summary: “we go to an art museum.you’re into it more than I am,but that doesn’t matter.out of all the works of art,all I want to stare at is you”
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: natural progression [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538974
Comments: 11
Kudos: 58





	brush strokes and pigmentation

**Author's Note:**

> Ficlet 13 in a series of short fics I'm planning to write based on posts from the tumblr account affectionatesuggestion
> 
> The series will follow a progression into an established Johnlock relationship
> 
> Ooh, this is a short one, sorry

Sherlock has always had refined tastes, even if they are often lost beneath his obsessions with the strange, the unsettling, and the horrific. Alongside his infatuation with crime work is his passion for classical music; in tune with his enthusiasm for serial killers is a deep appreciation for fine art.

When the work slows, and they find themselves without a case for several days, Sherlock demands and drags John to an art museum. John grumbles but is secretly pleased that the detective involves him in the day.

They walk through crowded galleries; take in the works of Picasso and Monet; eat subpar sandwiches in the café; navigate between milling families and school children.

The intricacies of the art—brush strokes and pigmentation—are largely lost on John, but Sherlock speaks in rapid bursts about perspective and techniques, and John listens with rapt attention.

Van Gogh’s sunflowers brighten heavy lines, but there’s a light in Sherlock’s face that holds John’s attention, and the angles of his sharp cheekbones are far more captivating than Michelangelo’s stone cold David.

And, sure, there are likely people who would exile him for such thoughts, perhaps even the detective himself, but John doesn’t particularly care that he has no deeper appreciation for the art they peruse. The greatest work of art stands beside him with bright eyes and eager face, wrapped in a long coat and a rich blue scarf like a pop of colour at his collar.

There is not a single technique that could perfectly catch the way Sherlock’s lips quirk when he notes John watching him; no amount of blending or smudged charcoal could do justice to the curl of dark hair over the detective’s forehead; no gesso or glaze could preserve the heat that blooms in John’s chest when their hands brush.

John isn’t really interested in art—at least, not the kind that hangs on walls. Sherlock marvels over the delicate brush strokes of Goya, and John revels in the composition of Sherlock’s pastel eyes in the light slanting across his face.


End file.
